


Diamond City Radio Break

by BishopDeaconCardinal



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Assisted Suicide, Biting, Blow Jobs, Choking, Drugs, Finger Sucking, First Time, Grief/Mourning, Hate Sex, Injury, Kissing, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Pining, Under-negotiated Kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:11:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24343990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BishopDeaconCardinal/pseuds/BishopDeaconCardinal
Summary: Each chapter is a different one-shot cleaned up and made presentable for your perusal.Pairings and brief description in chapter notes/title, tags will update as chapters do.
Relationships: John Hancock/Nick Valentine, Paladin Danse/John Hancock (Fallout), Paladin Danse/Robert Joseph MacCready, Preston Garvey/Sturges
Comments: 16
Kudos: 60





	1. Danse/Hancock, Hate Sex

**Author's Note:**

> A hint of dub-con? Hancock is sort of just messing with Danse but he calls him on his bluff. But if any form of that bothers you please be aware for your comfort levels. :)

Danse was actively sweating. He’d removed his power armor helmet moments before but still trails of sweat were making their way across his temple and collecting at the chin of his hood.

Hancock seems fine which makes him angrier. 

“You know, “ the ghoul starts, and Danse grimaces at that alone. “I've always loved canned sausage.” he knocks on Danse's power armor. 

Danse tries his best to ignore him as they continue traversing the HalluciGen building. The heat getting worse as the non toxic fog grew heavier. 

He was fairly certain it was non toxic. Hadn't set anything off when he'd tested it. Still. 

He was so fucking hot.

“Did you get my joke?” Hancock asks, “I called you a sausage. Because you're a dick.”

“I haven't actively killed you for reasons that are starting to pale in comparison to actually doing it.” He responds with a savage calmness. 

Hancock just laughs. 

He hopes they find the component Claire needed soon. He wasn't sure how much more of this heat or Hancock he could handle. 

“You know this place is still pretty cleared out from the last time we were here. You probably don't need to be all Tin Man,” Hancock points out. 

“I'm fine,” he snaps, the early calm fading. The heat was possibly affecting him more then he realises. 

“If you faint in that thing I'm just going to leave you here,” he says looking at him. Clearly it wasn’t a threat, just a fact to Hancock.

It was really fucking hot.

He waits until they are in a safe area and parks the power armor. 

Upon stepping out he immediately felt better. 

“Wow. Damn. That's an ass I'd kill for. I'd die for.” Hancock says stopping to put a hand to his chest in aw.

Danse suddenly feels worse out of the power armor.

“Don't sexualize me.”

“I'm not. You're doing it all on your own pretty well.”

Something in Danse breaks. He can’t handle this constant teasing, picking at him, messing with him. If Hancock is trying to get a rise out of him, it’s worked. 

His hand was around the ghoul’s neck pressing him into the wall before he fully had time to think it through.

“Fuck!” Hancock yells in surprise. “ _ Yes. _ ”

Danse pushes harder on his windpipe in response. 

Hancock smirks and pushes himself off the wall and forces his throat harder into his hand.

“What are you doing?” Danse asks but otherwise unmoving. 

He sucks in a shaky breath, his hands dropped down to his pants undoing them. “Having a nice time.”

Danse pushes off and away from him in disgust. “You're incorrigible.”

“It's pronounced insatiable,” he laughs. Danse fought the urge to repeat the action of choking him all over again. “You enjoyed that, didn't you?”

Danse began walking again. The sooner they found the component the sooner he could leave here. 

“Wrapping your fingers around my neck, finally putting an end to all my tormenting. Silencing me.” Hancock puts a hand on his shoulder and leans in, “Got you kind of hard, didn't it?”

He puts a hand on Hancock’s face and pushes him away but Hancock sucks his thumb into his mouth. Danse shoves his nail into the roof of his mouth and feels Hancock bite down. He reaches to smack him off when Hancock and grabs his wrist. He was surprisingly strong.

Hancock winks at him.

Danse turns and forces him into a wall again and in response he swirls his tongue around the finger.

“ _ Hancock _ .”

He hasn't realised that in pushing him against the wall he had moved his leg between Hancock's until Hancock grinds down against it.

Danse startles but is determined not to pull away again. His thumb is still being lavished in the ghoul’s mouth and his arm is pressing across Hancock’s chest. 

Reasonably the only course of action was to bite him. 

Hancock groans and moves his hips against him again while Danse bites down hard enough to break the skin on the place where his shoulder and neck met. 

Hancock reaches down and strokes him through his flight suit and to Danse's horror, he discovers he’s hard. 

He pushes off Hancock completely, his thumb dragging against his teeth, making his thumb bleed.

“You're going to be a mean one, aren't you?” Hancock asks, licking his tongue over his teeth, chasing Danse's blood like it was to be savoured. “Tell yourself it's the fog. Tell yourself it's some sort of aphrodisiac. Whatever you need Dansey baby, because you'll eventually have to acknowledge that I did that.” he points to Danse's cock that was heavily pressing against his flight suit.

“Do you ever stop talking?” He retales weakly. 

“Only when my mouth busy with other things,” he licks his lips obscenely.

Danse moves first surprising them both. He puts a hand on Hancocks shoulder and pushes him down to his knees. He goes so willingly Danse thinks he might be sick with how much he likes it.

He reaches up for his flight suit zipper and makes a show of pulling it down and Danse rolls his eyes. 

“Not a fan of theatrics. Rather get down and dirty?'”He tugs the suit down, follows it with Danse's underwear. “Rather get right to the point? That being your going to let some slimy ghoul, a disgusting abomination get you off-”

Danse grabs the back of his hand and pushes it towards his dick. 

Hancock laughs, a darker edge to it this time, “Oh baby, you love it.”

Hancock wraps a hand around Danse and doesn’t even take him into his mouth immediately. He traces his tongue across his glans, pushing it beneath his foreskin. He worries his cock with his tongue before bringing his lips around the head and sucking. He swirls and teases as he slowly starts a rhythm of meeting his fist wrapped around Danse’s dick. He sucks him off at a punishing pace, quick and filthy, making a point to let Danse come down his throat. To prove he could make Danse come and  _ enjoy it.  _ Danse even from this angle could see Hancock smile as he swallows. 

Fucking bastard. 

Danse can't get dressed fast enough as the shame comes crashing in on the heels of his orgasm.

“What no reach around?” Hancock asks, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “Danse baby, you wound me.”

Danse fiddles with a zipper on his suit a moment before turning suddenly and forcing Hancock against that fucking wall one more time. 

Hancock looks lost for a minute, then he gets that secret fucking smile as Danse wraps his hand around his neck again. 

Hancock gets into his pants and Danse presses. He works himself over just as quick and dirty as he had Danse. 

He’s panting and moaning, his eyes never closing, smug look never fully fading. 

“Bite me,” he gasps. 

Danse looks him hard in the eyes, presses a little heavier.

Hancock winks again and Danse fucking bites him, just to make him bleed again. 

When he comes, he cries out nonsense words. Danse lets go of him immediately and he falls to his knees once more, coughing and holding his own throat with one hand and his dick with the other. 

“Danse, baby,” he wheezes, “You make me feel like shit. I fucking love it.”

Danse wipes his hand off on Hancocks sleeve. “We have to find the component right now or I will kill you. End of discussion.”

Hancock takes a few more heaving breaths before staggering to his feet. “Lead the way, baby.”

Danse rolls his eyes, feeling no better about the heat.


	2. MacCready & Sole Survivor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A gunner in HalluciGen recognizes MacCready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I tagged this assisted suicide. Also possibly self harm? Please avoid if these are triggers! Thank you :)

The smell in HalluciGen was strangely clean. River sort of felt that it smelled like those candles that were scented 'clean sheets' or 'summer linen'.

The fact the gunners had taken to openly inhaling the toxin made total sense in that regard, it was weirdly pleasant. 

The inside of her gas mask smelled like cinnamon from where it had been shoved into MacCready’s bag. Everything that came from his bag did, she's pretty sure he kept some sort of tiny scented pouch in there. 

MacCready walked behind her, his grip on his gun like a threat to the weapon itself, rather than whoever ended up on the wrong side of it. She couldn't see his face, but she knew between the drugged gunners and the repeating automated system that he wasn't doing so well. 

Apparently the automated system was too much like those in subway stations. 

She watched him flinch as it told them to get out once more. He re-adjusted his pack and clenched his jaw, "Can we please get the hell out of here?"

She knew he sometimes let hell slide as a swear when he was stressed. 

Clearly he was stressed. 

They were close to where the storage container for Overseer Barstow said the parts they needed were, but their progress was slow. 

MacCready wasn't much for hand to hand and it was just easier to crouch down and crawl around the gunners then to fight them.

Stairs were typically harder to sneak around but the only gunner who fired at them did so while falling from the top floor of the stairwell. His aim was decidedly inaccurate.

They paused in the stairwell, manic laughter and shouts of terror intermixed from the same voice at the end of the steps. 

River led, gun drawn and crouched, ready for a fight. MacCready's hold out pistol poised to bring up the rear. 

River had her weapon trained on the gunner at the bottom of the steps before they'd fully finished rounding the bottom of the stairs. It was instinct, have the one up on the enemy. 

MacCready’s long fingers wrapped around her bicep in silent correction. 

The gunner on the floor cried, the gun which had been presumably his, too far from him to grab should he notice their approach. 

MacCready let go and she stepped forward as the gunner on the floor cried about bugs. She glanced back at MacCready and he looked like he wanted to grab her arm all over again but for a different reason. 

River knew better than to try to speak with the gunner. He was clearly injured and not all there. Their best course of action was to sneak past. 

The gunner didn't even seem to register them, just chattered insanely about cats and bugs.

MacCready stumbled behind her as they passed, a handful of his duster in the gunner's hand. The gunner shivered cackled, "I know this coat, I know this coat!" A manic laugh tore from the gunners throat, "Mac-Mac-Mac-Mac-Mac!".

MacCready looked at her, she could just make out his eyes through the mask, the question that lingered there. 

She nodded and he crouched down, removing the gas mask.

The gunner  _ beamed _ at him, "Mac! RJ! It's you!"

River watched MacCready’s face, but she couldn't tell if he recognized the gunner back. 

The man grabbed at MacCready’s duster with both hands, "Mac, Mac there are bugs everywhere. They're everywhere!"

River moved forward when he grabbed MacCready’s coat, but MacCready just gently placed his hands on the gunner's, "Yeah, I know. I think it's okay though."

"Oh! It's fucking okay! I got em! I stabbed them! They were on me but I stabbed them!" He let go of MacCready’s jacket to pull his own open, proudly showing off his self inflicted stab wounds. 

She watched MacCready bite his bottom lip before nodding. He cleared his throat before speaking. "Yeah, you got 'em, man. I'm going to go, okay?" He started to pull away when the gunner grabbed his jacket again.

"Mac, Mac!" He seemed desperate and panicked. MacCready put his hand over his again. "I'm not going to make it." He laughed a little quieter, a little more clear headed, "Can it be you? Can it be you instead of them? The tiger? It's getting closer. I can hear it."

MacCready stared at him a little wide eyed, "You want me to-"

"Kill me! Kill me!" He giggled manically, producing a knife and shoving it hilt first at MacCready. 

MacCready took the knife and looked to River. She knew exactly what she'd do, but this was MacCready’s choice. 

She put her hands up and stepped into the next room, busied herself with reloading her gun.

MacCready rejoined her, gas mask back in place. 

She didn't say anything, just held her gloved hand out. She couldn't feel his skin but she felt the tightness in which he squeezed before letting go.


	3. Danse/MacCready, First time blow job

***

MacCready hadn't ever done this before. 

Sitting on his knees wasn't new, the part about being between Danse's legs? That. That was new. 

"Have you ever been with a man before?" Danse asks.

"Yes!" MacCready answers too quickly. "It was just...different. Less involved."

"Less involved? I asked if you'd been with a man, not if you got off  _ near _ another guy-"

"Yes! I said yes. I just never put his dick in my mouth." 

Danse raises an eyebrow, "Did you want to?"

"Not the point right now," MacCready grumbles.

"Sort of is," Danse says reasonably. He leans forward on the couch and touches MacCready's face, "You know you don't have to do this, Robert."

He blushes as he speaks, "Yeah well I want to," he moves out of the touch, "Just tell me- tell me how to start."

The way Danse spoke was almost technical, like explaining how to reload a gun or recalibrate the shocks in power armor. "Grasp the base to steady it and if you move to do more then lick cover your teeth with your lips. Have you ever indulged in ice cream before?"

MacCready gives him a look, "At what point in my life would I have done that?"

"Sorry. Of course. Hard candy? Suckers?"

MacCready brightens, "Lollipops? Yeah. I know that one," he looks back to Danse's lap. "So I just...like a lollipop?"

Danse nods and MacCready takes him in hand. He licks up the underside experimentally and Danse makes a noise. A decidedly positive noise.

Ok. Good.

MacCready's has had blow jobs before, loads of times. (Ha.) He knew in theory what at least felt good to him. Maybe he should copy that? 

Feeling bolder and sucks the tip into his mouth, runs his tongue over the head like a lollipop. 

Danse makes a punched out sound and tightens his fists where they lay next to his thighs on the couch. 

Feeling daring, he goes down farther, taking more of him. Danse groans and MacCready feels good because  _ he  _ caused that noise. 

He lets his tongue explore, moves it under Danse's foreskin and that tastes-

Danse clenches his fists and exhales, "Oh-fuck-Robert-!"

Fine. It tastes fine. If that's the response he gets he can do it again. 

So he does. Danse doesn't say anything this time, just a breathless whine. 

He switches tactics, moving to move up and down over and over again. 

Danse splayes one hand out on the couch and MacCready could tell he wanted to touch. 

He moves his hat off his own head and puts Danse's hand to his hair. 

He pulls off a moment, "Don't pull," before moving back down.

He can tell Danse is trying his best not too, but he keeps gripping just a little bit too tight and MacCready gives him a look.

Danse leans forward and pulls MacCready off himself and moves down and kisses him. 

It's filthy. He knows he tastes of pre-come and it was kind of hot how Danse seems to be intent on chasing that flavor. 

MacCready groans a bit as Danse pulls back and bites MacCready's bottom lip.

"You ok?" Danse asks more than a bit breathlessly. 

MacCready nods, "You?"

"I'm- please?" Danse says with a desperate look. MacCready sort of knew what he meant. 

He moves back down and takes Danse back into his mouth, his lips meeting his fist stroking around the base on every stroke now. 

He flicks his tongue in a way that  _ he _ certainly likes but wasn't sure how Danse would. 

Danse's other hand flew to his hair, "Oh my God!"

MacCready did it again and Danse tries to get out something. 

MacCready is guessing it was a warning. He didn't give it soon enough though. 

It hits him in the back of the throat. He doesn't have a super strong gag reflex but it gags him. He coughs as the rest of Danse's come ends up on his face. 

He looks up at Danse. Danse is watching him through almost closed eyes as he comes down from the high of orgasam. Almost fondly he chuckles at MacCready’s still surprised face.

MacCready rolls his eyes, "Shut up."

Danse reaches and tries to gather the come off his face but his occasional faint laughter was making it hard for him to get it all. MacCready retaliates by shoving Danse's thumb into his mouth and giving it much the same treatment with his tongue he'd been giving his dick moments before. 

Danse bites off a groan, "Robert."

"Danse."


	4. Deacon & Sole Survivor,  Fake Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tw for injuries. Deacon hurts himself to pretend to have been in a fight.

She watches him choreograph the fight, slowly moving through his and the fake attackers motions. 

"See he'd be scared, quick sharp movements, but wide set shoulders, arm up and other attacking,” he demonstrates, turning and dragging the blade across his knuckles in a fake attempt at blocking, but drawing real blood. 

The settlement they were trying to befriend (and recruit to the Railroad) didn't take well to outsiders. However they were known to at times help injured travelers. 

River grimaces as he moves and cuts his own arm, his grip on the knife going wet. 

He pulls it across the stitching on his upper sleeve and across his collar bone, accidentally turning into his imaginary attackers blade. 

"Can you do my face?"

"Excuse me?" 

"Cut across my cheek," He flips the combat knife around and hands it to her hilt first. 

She takes it, nearly dropping it from the stickiness of his blood on it. 

"Could I not do this?" she asks looking at it. 

"It be real sweet of ya if you did." He bats his eyelashes, his sunglasses slipped low on his nose. 

"Can I punch you?" she turns the knife over. 

"It have to be real fucking hard. Teeth rattling. Are you sure you're twiggy little-"

She punches him so hard she breaks his sunglasses. 

He holds his face and deadpans, "Ow." 

She rolls her eyes, "I used to be a gymnast, asshole. Had to throw around other girls."

"Kinky. Okay. Are you ready to approach them?" he asks still holding his jaw. 

"Yeah," she says putting her bags in the designated drop area. If they didn't let them in she'd have to get a stimpack. 

Because the plan required peril. 

He studies his thigh and she gives him the knife back. 

"Miss the artery, superficial, lot of blood. Could bleed out. Ready?" he asks, aiming the knife over his leg. 

"No," She closes his eyes. 

He cries out a desperately painful "Son of a bitch!" and she opens her eyes. Blood everywhere. 

She wraps an arm around his waist and heads towards the settlement, "Help! Please! Someone!"

She hopes this works.


	5. Deacon kissing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 4 kisses ahoy. None necessarily romantic!
> 
> >Deacon + Glory  
> >Deacon + Piper  
> >Deacon + Sole Survivor  
> >Deacon + Drummer Boy

He was holding Glory’s hand, his other around her waist, swaying with her to the music. 

She laughed as he sang along to New York, New York. Diamond City Radio only played it on New Years and this year was no different. The whole two hours from 11pm to 1am it was on repeat. 

He twirled her and she paused not totally certain what to do and he pulled her back to him. 

She'd been out of The Institute for eight months, and this was her first new years. 

"Al-alright everyone," The radio announcer began as the song ended. "It's that time. The big countdown."

"You're six seconds behind!" Carrington yelled tapping his watch. The radio ignored him and began counting down from ten. 

At one the whole Railroad cheered, and to his surprise, Glory dipped him and kissed him. 

The Switchboard cheered louder, Deacon kicked a leg up around her waist and she grabbed his thigh to hold it there. 

When she righted him he laughed. 

She smiled, "Always watched the scientist do that. Wanted to try it myself." 

"You did amazing." he winked and laughed and rejoined the party. 

*

"You agreed to this." MacCready pointed out. 

"I didn't think you'd dare me to kiss Piper! No offense, Piper." Deacon shrugged taking a step away from the circle.

"Offense! Offense!" she yelled back. 

"Piper, you're like a kid-"

She interrupted him, "I'm twenty!"

"And I'm old as shit!"

"You're just afraid I'll rock your fucking world, Deacon!" she moved to stand, as if her 5 less inches then him in height would intimidate.

"Oh, please. I've been kissed. Then I've been  _ kissed _ . You know what I'm saying? So if you think-"

She dipped him into a kiss, he thought mostly because of the height difference. 

There was too much tongue and it was an awkward angle but the group that had been drinking together cheered anyway. 

She pushed off him and he would have hit the floor hadn't Hancock put a hand on his shoulder to push him up. 

"See?" she demanded wiping her mouth off on her glove.

He did what he did best. He lied, "Alright, I admit."

*

River all but crawled into his lap. She was crying, she never cried. 

He held her and pet her hair. He knew this pain. The empty hollow sound where a loved one, a spouse, used to fill. He wasn't sure what set it off but he knew he could help. 

He rocked her gently and kissed her forehead. 

Through tears she pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. He kissed back, and she held him there 0a moment longer than a peck, and tucked her head under his chin. 

He was there. He could help. 

*

Drummer Boy was smoking on the steps. He leaned forward and met Deacon, using his cigarette to light the one Deacon had between his lips, Deacon nodded his thanks before speaking, "Aren't you a little young to be smoking?" 

"Its my eighteenth birthday. I'm entitled," He sighed. 

Deacon frowned, "What like today? Today today?"

He shrugged, "Yeah. Didn't want to make a big fuss over it though," he looked at him, "Think I could convince Des to call me Drummer Man?"

"Doesn't have the same ring unfortunately." He clapped him on the shoulder, "Sorry bud."

"Alex. My name is Alex," He all but whispered. 

Deacon looked at him for a long time, code names were in place for a reason. 

He thought about correcting him but said instead, "And what do you want for your birthday, Alex?"

"God, mostly? I want Bumblebee to give me the time of day." 

That shocked a laugh out of Deacon. He hadn't known Drummer Boy liked the other agent. To be fair, Bumblebee was one of their cutest but Deacon rarely saw them.

"For a spy, I feel pretty bested right now. I had no idea," He smiled at him.

"Did you know I want to kiss you?" 

That too shocked Deacon. He all but stuttered, "Aren't you like waaaaaay too young?"

He shrugged, "In this line of work I don't know if I'll get an older, much less a later to try it."

He thought for a moment then hooked a finger under his chin and pulled him forward. 

Their lips met and smoke curled around their mouths out their noses. 

He let Drummer Boy deepen it slightly, pulling away when he awkwardly tried to get his tongue involved. 

Drummer Boy looked wide eyed, startled that that had even happened. 

Deacon stubbed his cigarette out on the wall, "Happy birthday, Alex."


	6. Sturges/Preston Garvey, String of One Night Stands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw: alcohol! Also they're both drunk so they are both making impaired decisions! Please skip if this is a trigger!

Preston leaned too far forward on his bar stool and ended up mostly in Sturges' lap. 

Sturges helped Preston sit back up, "Hey buddy? I think you might have had a bit too much."

Preston laughed and waved a hand at him, "Na, I'm cool. Can still walk."

"My man, you just found sitting too difficult," he pointed out.

Preston chuckled, "Okay, maybe."

Strurges stood and offered him his arm. He took it and laughed, attempting a curtsey that nearly took them both down. 

He led them back to the room they shared in Sanctuary. 

Sturges knew it he question was coming and he braced himself for it as he turned the oil lamp down. 

As expected a question floated from the other side of the room, "Can we push our beds together?"

Sturges sighed, "No because something always happens when we do that."

Preston whispered, "Please? Nothing will happen."

"You always say that too." Sturges pointed out. 

"I just want-"

"To be close," Sturges sighed again, "I know."

Sturges knew how drunk he himself was. He knew how'd this end, and the next morning they wouldn't be able to look at each other, mutterings of won't do that again coming from both parties. 

And Sturges was many things, but he wasn't ever able to tell Preston no. 

"Yeah, alright. Move it over."


	7. Deacon, MacCready, Impressions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cutearson's Sole!

"Claire! Claire." Deacon was all but hopping uo in down in front of her. He had moments to tell her what he wanted before Magnolia began her next song, "Hey! Hey, bud. Slap me."

She nearly spills her shittybeer, "What?"

He starts chanting, "Slap me. Slap me! Slap me!" 

Being in the Third Rail she decides to do as the Good Neighbor residents do and reels back and slaps him. The sound is loud in contrast to the quiet before the beginning notes of Magnolia's next hit begins, drowning out the clatter of his sunglasses sailing across the floor.

"Oh yeah!" he counters loudly, "Last time I let you into my heart, much less my bed!" he slinks away and Claire recognizes she was apart of some long scheme he was playing on a mark at the bar. 

The mark goes over to comfort him and Claire rolls her eyes. 

MacCready sits next to her while she watches Deacon lean his head on their shoulder. When she looks to MacCready he's wearing Deacon’s sunglasses from the floor staring at her. 

She bursts out laughing. 

"Hey, get this," Oh God, is MacCready doing a voice? "If we train mole rats to carry messages and send them out like carrier pigeons, the Institute won't know how we communicate!" 

He is definitely doing a Deacon voice. 

"Did you know that I have 12 different wigs shoved up my ass right now?" His commitment to not smiling is upsetting. 

Claire's laughing louder then normal, the beer easily improving MacCready’s impression. 

"If I could-" he's interupted by the real Deacon sitting by him on the couch.

He takes MacCready's cigarette from his fingers and hunches over, looking shifty, "You know," he says turning to Claire, MacCready’s tone coming easily to her, "I jizzed myself when I first saw the silver shroud set. True story."

Claire almost snorts her drink. 

***


	8. Hancock/Valentine- Pining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hancock’s had a crush on Nick forever.

Hancock had been sweet on Nick for a long time, pre-ghoul even. When Nick had called him a different name and Hancock laughed when he'd get so high and sweaty his hair would stick to the back of his neck and need help stumbling home from the Dugout. Nick would oblige, saying maybe don't push it so hard next time, kid. 

And he'd laugh and say I'm almost forty, I'm hardly a kid, Nicky. 

After becoming a ghoul it changed to The Third Rail and a defiant I'm eternal, hardly a kid, Nicky. 

And Nick would always point out he was still older. 

The bastard. 

Shortly after becoming a ghoul but before being mayor he went through a period where he'd get fucked up just to see if he'd come find him. Most of the time he did. When Nick didn't he'd usually just sleep off whatever was bothering him, wherever he was. 

When he became mayor, he started trying to get black out fucked more privately. High all the time was expected, but totally wrecked was personal. 

Nick came around less for those. Not as many people to send message to Diamond City when you were all but alone in the privacy of your mayoral office. 

He hooked his hands behind Nick's head once as he was lowered to the mattress. "Come on, baby. Let ol' Hancock show you a good evening."

Nick just laughed and unhooked his hands and tucked him in like a fucking kid. 

Now here. Now at Sanctuary, something had shifted. 

Aaliyah and Nick had gone out and avenged some long dead lost love of the guy Nick was based off of. After that he seemed lost and alone and a little depressed which if he's being honest with himself, is sort of Hancock's calling card. 

He didn't say anything, just crawled into Nick's bed one night. It wasn't where Nick slept, it was where he 'ran his more telling diagnostics' or as Hancock put it 'moped'. 

He wrapped an arm around Nick's waist and rested his head on his shoulder. Nick's arm came around him and held him for a long moment before muttering "John."

"Nick," he muttered back. 

As a testament to his strength, he didn't try anything. Didn't lick at his waxy skin to see if Nick could feel it. Didn't suck on his flesh hand's fingertips. Didn't even cop a feel. 

He just let Nick do what he needed, and all Nick needed was to hold someone. 

There would be time for that other stuff later. They had all the time in the world as far as Hancock was concerned. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate the tenses here but goddammit we are trying to have some mandatory *fun*. 
> 
> Twitch twitch

**Author's Note:**

> My eternal love to @locketofyourhair who helped me make this pretty and is in general a delightful individual <3
> 
> im on twitter! @BDeCardinal <3


End file.
